Devils Unto Dust(92)

“Stay close to the house,” Calvin says, his small brow wrinkling.

“Mind Miss Bess,” Cath adds.

“And stay out of trouble,” I finish.

I stand up, ruffling Cath’s hair, and look to the cluttered porch in front of me.

“You sure about this, Miss Bess?” I ask. “I can ask Sam or Elsie—”

“You’re wasting daylight,” Bess calls from her rocking chair. “Go on and get. We’ll be fine.”

I nod and squeeze Calvin’s shoulder one last time. “Look after one another,” I tell them. “I’ll be back in four days.”

“What if you’re not?” Calvin asks.

“I will be,” I say. I trace my scar lightly with my fingers, feeling anxious and invincible. “I might be late, I might be injured, but I will always come back to y’all. I promise.”

“Micah always said don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Cath says, and my heart twists. “You can’t swear that.”

“Can’t I?” I ask, kissing the top of her head. “Well, we’ll see if life makes a liar out of me, won’t we?”

I watch them walk toward the house, and a part of me goes with them.

“Love,” I call out, and I wait until I hear their voices call back before I turn to leave.

Some days I’m not sure I made the right choice. Ma wouldn’t approve, I don’t think. But then again, what do I know. Maybe she would. People change; I changed. And this was my choice, and if it’s a mistake then it’s my mistake to make.

The path forks and I go left, the sun climbing high above the fence. That’s all choices are, really; a step in one direction instead of another. Every scuff my boot makes in the dirt feels like a beginning. It will never be easy, I know that; life will never let up, it will never give me room to breathe. But there are still things worth fighting for. There are still people worth protecting. And maybe this town is still worth saving.

The gate looms ahead, solid and still, but my eyes go to the figures in front of it.

“You’re late,” Ben says, his hat tucked low over his eyes.

“Quit scowling at me just ’cause you’re tired,” I tell him, and he grumbles under his breath.

“You ready for this, young’un?” Curtis asks, smiling at me.

“As ready as I’m gonna get, I reckon.”

Curtis whistles to the guards on the gate and gives Daisy’s saddlebags a once-over. She’s loaded up with everything from flour to bullets, but the weight doesn’t seem to be bothering her.

“Wasn’t sure you was gonna show,” Ben says quietly, coming to stand next to me.

“For my first supply run?” I nudge my shoulder against his, just hard enough to send a spark through my veins. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

I catch the barest ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappears.

“Open her up,” Curtis calls, and my heart thunders at the squeal of the gates.

“You ready to go back out there?” Ben asks.

I take a deep breath that smells like dust and metal and fate.

“I’m ready.”

He tilts his head up and his eyes are gold in the sunlight.

“Then after you.”

I adjust my rifle and put my hand to my belt and wrap my fingers around the hot metal of my revolver. I know what this road leads to. The desert took almost everything from me, left me broken and heartsick and hard. I stare at the path I need to follow, and I dare it to cross me. Give me blood, give me pain; I’ve survived worse. It’s what I’m good at, it’s what I do. This is the life I’ve chosen for myself, and this is the path that I take. I pull out my gun and I walk it.





Acknowledgments


First and foremost, I owe thanks to Heather Flaherty for starting me down this long, dusty road. Thanks for taking a chance on me and holding my hand through this entire process. Sorry for all the emails.

Martha Mihalick, every day I’m grateful that this book ended up in your care. Thank you for seeing the potential in my words and for digging out something better than I could ever have hoped for. Again, sorry for all the emails.

Katie Heit and Tim Smith, Paul Zakris and Sammy Yuen, all the folks in marketing, publicity, sales, and Epic Reads, thank you all for your hard work and enthusiastic support of this book. Y’all are the best and I am forever thankful to be a part of the Greenwillow team.

I’m lucky to have the Herd at my back, an amazingly talented group of writers and friends. Thank you for your constant inspiration, commiseration, and celebration. Y’all make the highs higher and the lows bearable.

Thanks to Graham Norris and Lee Arcuri for your insightful critiques and much needed encouragement. You may be fancy-pants writers but you’re even better friends.

Thanks to Adrian, Katherine, Laura, and Leah, my earliest readers and loudest cheerleaders by a wide margin. Special shout-out to Gene Kincaid for keeping me alive all those summers in the real Silver, Texas. Thanks to all my friends (you know who you are) for standing by me through thick and thin. I love you all, you beautiful weirdos.

I have a big dumb family that I big dumb love. Thanks to Hillary, my first and most persistent fan. Peter, I swear Micah isn’t based on you (mostly.) Emily, thanks for geeking out over YA with me. Willa, when you’re old enough to read this, remember that I came up with the name first. Mom and Dad, thanks for never suggesting this might not be the best career choice.